Love me Good
by Mr. Bathory
Summary: Years after escaping Nagini's attack, Severus Snape has adjusted to living life as a muggle; everything is perfect and tranquil until he recognises an all too familiar voice approaching him.
1. Chapter 1

_'I had been planning this for a while. By 'this' I mean what I would do if - for better or worse - I somehow had to go into hiding after the battle of Hogwarts, whether the students under my protection either failed or were victorious. The likelihood of 'this' happening was incredibly high; just as I may or may not have sabotaged Remus Lupin by exposing him as a werewolf, parents would be skeptical of having a former Death Eater teaching their children, even if I was a mere double-agent, and not a true follower of Lord Voldemort. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself - one thing the insufferable, ingenious Miss Granger was very painstakingly right about. There was also the fact that the Ministry may come looking for me, along with the Dementors... not that they would have much positivity to sap from me; I'm not known for being the happiest person around. But, on the beneficial side of my mood, at least my poor temperament meant that I would not expect too much from others and displease myself._

_Nonetheless, 'this' seemed to be my only option: I would retreat into the muggle world, and live out the rest of my days as I would have preferred to, were I muggle-born and not a half-blood. I have knowledge of how to conduct myself in this sort of environment, and pride myself on knowing how to do so better than a pureblood. Still, I know a man of my interests and hobbies would stick out like a sore thumb, so instead of attempting - and possibly failing - to blend in with the majority, I made a bee-line for the subcultures, instead. Those who live what the muggles call a more 'alternative' lifestyle. This was much easier to achieve, and meant that I didn't really have to change an awful lot about the way I normally look to fit in. _

_After the battle of Hogwarts, I just about managed to drag myself to safety after being bitten by Nagini, keeping pressure on the wound and conserving my energy just long enough to find myself at the better end of the Herbology department, where I was quickly able to find a coagulant to prevent myself from bleeding out (after taking notes on several occasions that Nagini was a non-venomous snake, and was more closely identified as a reticulated python, judging by her size, colour and the shape of her head, I judged that were she ever to be turned against me, I would require a coagulant as opposed to an antivenom). Prior to bandaging and dressing my throat I had rifled through Sprout's miraculously intact emergency first aid kit._

_Then, I made my escape. _

_I do not remember much of how it happened, as the adrenaline caused me to nearly lose my head, but I am under the impression that I found the vanishing cabinet and transported myself to Borgin and Burkes, only to flee via Diagon Alley, where I would be able to disapparate again.'_

Severus Snape was, of that moment, sat in an Irish pub, half of his brain listening to those participating in the Open Mic night, and half of his brain focusing on writing down just what had happened to him. This pub was where he had been when he first fled back to the muggle-world with very little but his muggle wallet, wand, and £500 in cash. He had changed, since then, especially in his appearance.

He supposed that his new lifestyle meant a 'new me'.

If someone had asked one of his former students to identify him in a crowd of Goths, he could think of only four people who would have been able to do so: Hermione Granger - who would catch on after a few minutes of analysis, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy - both of whom would have squinted around the room until they, by some stroke of pure luck, spotted him, and the complete mystery that was Miss Luna Lovegood, who he had no doubt would identify him immediately, without question, by sod's law.

Indeed, a few years had passed since he had left the wizarding world, and he was making a living out of taxidermy and tattooing. Odd subjects for one who was primarily scientific, but Severus had thought that if he had gone into medicine, it would have been entirely too predictable and all the easier for him to attract unwanted attention. Thus, he had slid to the opposite end of the scale and specialised in the creative department.

It may have also brought these four individuals joy - were they to suddenly somehow locate him - to see that he had since ditched the stress-induced greasy hair, and although his teeth were clean, they were still slightly yellowed due to his smoking habit and (denied) addiction to coffee. Instead, his hair was rather silky, and much longer, now, reaching his chest. He had a fair amount of tattoos, and only a few piercings, two of which were beneath the shirt. The look rather suited him, and he wasn't at all too old for it, still in his mid thirties. He could easily get away with looking slightly younger, and he blended in almost seamlessly with Goths, bikers and metal-heads alike. He looked rather like a vampire, these days, even more so than he did when working at Hogwarts, only now he was more pleasing to look at, and more comfortable in himself. Now, he was less '_Count Orlok'_, and more '_Richard Roxburgh's Dracula__'. _

Severus, by coming back to engage himself in 'normal' life, had overcome many personal problems; he had even risked talking to a therapist, which, to his massive surprise, had proved to help him a great deal, once he had let go of his pride enough to actually open up and talk about the things that were bothering him. He had made this decision after a revelation one late night in his apartment - _'The first step in solving a problem is realising that there **is** one.' _

Zipping up his leather jacket before finishing hand-rolling a cigarette, Severus Snape bolted the rest of his whiskey with a grim expression, and then left the pub, sliding his notebook back into his bag.

His evening was perfect. The street was quiet. The moon was full. The cigarette was smooth and he was warm inside. He knew exactly what he was going to do when he reached his home - he was going to pet his cat, take a shower and then go to bed...

That was until a much too familiar voice greeted him out of the blue and ruined his plan. He almost choked on the smoke from his cigarette.

"_Hello, Professor." _


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello, Professor."

Only once before, in his life, had Severus felt such dread at being addressed off guard. He debated continuing on his journey home without glancing back, but he had already recognised the voice of his addressee and it would be rude to just walk away now that he had been very clearly identified. But the thing that really struck him as being the worst, in this situation was that he had been _right._ _Right about her in particular._

"Miss Lovegood?" He turned on his heel, taking a deep breath to calm himself. His hands were shaking, and a cold bead of sweat trickled down his back. The memories of all he had run away from were rushing back to him all of a sudden, and he swallowed, thickly.

_I am only in my mid thirties. Isn't it too young to be having a heart attack?_

But ah, she knew the same struggle as he did, perhaps even worse, from her time in Malfoy Manor. He remembered that the last he saw of her, she had been completely dishevelled, looking as though someone had been hitting her repeatedly, not with magic but with _physical violence._ That thought made him sick to his stomach - despite being reputed as the coldest, hardest, most firm and unyielding professor at Hogwarts, Severus Snape was a highly empathic man. It was his emotions, and how he restricted them, that made him cruel.

They had both changed, significantly. Severus no longer painted the picture of the cover-boy for the Apathetic Depression magazine, and Luna was... well, Luna again.

"You look happier." She remarked, in her usual, drifting, dreamy tone, although there was a wiser undertone to her voice, now, a tone that spoke of experience, and perhaps even a level of hardness, which he knew all to well. He knew that tone, because it was the same one that he had often adopted, when attempting to hold himself together.

He had always found it odd, back in _that_ place. How, of all the students that were ignorant as to _why _he wasn't the most hygienic person in the building, Luna Lovegood had simply understood and had not said a single word about it. She knew more, and was much smarter than she let on. Of this, he was certain.

Perhaps it was something she had been through, herself? Being so perpetually exhausted that she could not muster the strength or motivation to take care of herself?

Severus was silent for a moment, opening his mouth for a short interval before the words finally came out.

"Yes, thank you. I am feeling much better," Those words felt odd in his mouth, but he continued, "You seem..."

Luna simply smiled.

"I know." She nodded, then, "I know. It must be odd for you, though, living without the use of magic."

It suddenly struck him that he was _actually _having a conversation with someone he knew, and he blinked a couple of times, adjusting his collar in awkward discomfort. But, he, too, nodded in agreement.

"It is, a little. But it's nothing I cannot get used to."

He took into account that she was here, in Ireland, not back in Hogwarts, nor in London. She was _here_, of all places. Snape had deduced that she was Irish by origin, from her accent, but he wondered. He just wondered.

_Where was she staying? Had she abandoned the wizarding world also? Was she here completely alone, now that she was without either of her parents?_

He reminded himself that she was an adult, now. She could be wherever she liked, and he had little power to question it.

Still, something seemed off. He took in her appearance; she was like him. She _was_. Only with the same eclecticism she always carried with her. She was wearing a loosely fitted pair of deep purple harem pants, black boots, a black lace top and a red, velvet scarf, draped around her shoulders.

_And her trademark radish earrings._

Her hair was messy, yet not dirty in the slightest, and her hands were covered in acrylic paint. He had always thought that art suited her well.

"Are you opening your shop at all, tonight?" She asked, with a sweet, hopeful smile upon her face.

"... Yes, I am."

_This wasn't the plan. Severus, this wasn't the plan. The plan was to go home, eat, feed your cat and sleep._

_"_Oh, that's great, would you mind? I have money, I can pay you cash in hand, straight away."

"Of course," Severus smiled without realising that his former students had never seen his expression change before, "Follow me."

* * *

"The bridge piercing and the lip stud really suit you, if you don't mind me saying." She commented, softly, putting her bag down on the floor beside the chair while he readied his inks, snapping on a pair of black latex gloves. He tied his hair back, perched a pair of glasses on the middle of his nose and then sat down.

"Thanks. What were you thinking of getting?"

"I want this symbol," She quickly drew it on a scrap of paper, "On my chest - my father used to wear it as a necklace."

_The symbol of the deathly hallows. Hang on. On her chest? **Where** on her chest?_

"Where on your chest do you want it?" He asked her, trying not to seem as though the placement had thrown him off a little.

_This is strictly professional. She is no longer your former student; she is your client. Act accordingly. _

"Right here." She patted her left breast, over her heart.

"Good. Right, I will get the gun ready while you get yourself ready, and then we can get on with it."

Severus went through his typical procedures, checking the gun, making sure that the needles were bobbing just fine, making sure the speed was high enough, etc. and then he split open an antiseptic wipe, turning back around to face her.

He shut off the part of his mind that kept screeching at him that she was a former student, and also the part that nagged him about knowing her as a child. She was sat there in her bra, with her feet propped up on the stool opposite the chair. Severus pulled his chair closer to hers, sitting down, slowly wiping across her pale, white flesh, cleaning the area thoroughly.

She jumped a little, and he paused, looking up at her in a mildly accusative way.

"Sorry; it's cold."

He dipped the needles in the black ink, and then rested his forearm on her right breast, her face almost (very) uncomfortably close to his own. It made it very difficult not to jerk his head up and look at her. He began to embed the ink in her skin, and she took a deep breath, the grip on his shoulder (that he had scarcely noticed was there) tightening. Her hands were warm, and her chest was flush with blood, her neck having turned scarlet with her escalating nerves. He could feel her trembling heart beneath his hand.

Severus risked a glance upwards. Her eyes were closed, and she was gnawing at her lip, her brows pinched together at the center. He looked back down immediately, refining the edges. Within five more minutes, he was done.

"Is that all for tonight?" He asked her sincerely, once more hiding the fact that she had damn near knocked him off his feet with that _face._ His voice may or may not have shook a little.

Luna admired the new tattoo on her breast and smiled widely, her eyes filling up a little.

"It's perfect. Yes, thank you so much," She pulled a fifty pound note from her purse, and he accepted it graciously, "I love it. Can I book an appointment with you, soon?"

"Ah... yes, of course you can," He gave her ten pounds back, and she stuffed it haphazardly into her pocket with a grin, "I am free tomorrow evening at six thirty. Also, what would you like, and where would you like it?"

He braced himself.

_Please don't say inner thigh. Please don't say inner thigh. Please don't say-_

"I'd like to get some flowers on my inner thigh to cover up a rather ugly scar."

_Shit._

"Alright..." He jotted it down in his diary, before snapping it closed between his fingers, "Perfect. I shall see you, then."

"See you soon, Professor!"

"You don't have to c-" The blonde suddenly apparated, a spray of ink staining his cheek, "-all me Professor..."

Severus sighed deeply, wiping his face on his sleeve. Fantastic.

He looked over his shoulder at the mirror, a small but long, black drip smudged up the right side of his face.

"_Fucking hell._" He muttered, putting away what was left of the tiny ink pot, before ripping his gloves off and slinging them at the bin.

_Well that was eventful. _


End file.
